My Scars
by suika1021
Summary: Emil has a secret. A secret that can threaten his brotherly bond with Lukas, and his life. But it's hard to keep it a secret if it's scarred on your arms. Until he meets a boy that may help him. IcelandxHong Kong
1. Introduction

**New series! This took forever to write, even though it's short. It's a pretty different theme than the other fanfics I read. It just came to me when I read the christmas bloodbath thing when cutie Iceland was being modest. A twisted mind came in thought and this is pretty much the result.**

**Sorry Iceland...**

**Also, human names are being used.**

**Iceland-Emil**

**Norway-Lukas**

**Denmark-Mathias**

**Own nothing!**

* * *

><p><strong>Introduction <strong>

Emil hissed sharply as the razor blade glided over his milky white flesh, leaving a thin red line in its place. Small beads of red leaked from his wound but he didn't stop. With another quick fluid movement with his hand, another cut appeared along his arm, blood leaked out once again.

He felt numb after each cut, each pain fading to nothingness as he repeated the process until there was no room for a slit on his arm or until he felt it was enough mentally. Each episode happened around the afternoon or whenever Emil was out of the house. And it wasn't always on the arm either. Sometime he would take it on his thin legs and once even lacerated his once smooth skin. The bloodthirsty blade didn't care where it left its mark, as long as it pleased its master with each swipe, it was happy to take in more skin.

Anywhere that could be easily concealed with clothing.

One cut later, he called it quits, panting slightly and examined the aftermath of his emotional rage he inflicted personally on himself. Blood and crimson lines decorated his arm like sick graffiti. He no longer cried as his emotions too were numb from his ordeal too. Silently after regaining his composure, he slid into his bathroom, rinsing the razor blade casually as possible than cleaned his wounds, ignoring the stinging pain. The angry red marks glared back at him and he only gazed back, unfazed.

As he watched the diluted blood flow down the drain, he felt himself feel calmer about his actions. The aftermath always felt the weirdest rather than the cutting. It was like "I did it" feeling that could never be satisfied.

That could never be cured.

He sighed and proceeded to cover his cuts with bandage.

...

...

"Emil, I'm home." Lukas called from the front door, closing the door shut with his foot. In both hands he carried plastic bags which Emil presumed to be school supplies. School was around the corner, specifically his first day as a freshman in high school. The large international high school that was within walking distance from their house was in pretty impressive size. Freshmen or new students were bound to get lost with the labyrinth hallways that all mimicked each other. Emil was glad that his brother will be a senior this year and promised to show him all the classes before the bell rung.

Lukas had spent three years at the school and was pretty popular with his handsome qualities and musical intelligence with his trusty violin. Once there were lines of girls who would follow him like his shadows. Now ever since coming out of the closet and dating the loudmouth Dane, fewer and fewer girls lingered. Nether less, his homosexuality didn't weaken his popularity status with his friends.

"I bought some extra binders in case you needed them," he said as Emil entered the kitchen, fishing out the said binders and piling them up on the granite counter along with the package of number 2 pencils. "…What's wrong with you?"

"Hmm?" Emil raised his head, subconsciously rubbing his freshly bandaged arm hidden under the sleeves of his navy blue sweater. He had it wrapped extra tight for it not to bulge out of his sleeves. His brother was awfully observant about the clothes he wore and knew that Lukas would eventually notice that he was wearing the same sweater three times in a row.

Oh well, better getting the weird looks because of clothes rather than disturbing secret out and exposed. "I'm fine. Just a bit tired." He replied and winced when he mistakenly tugged a little too roughly on the bandage, sending a small jolt a pain through his sensitive nerves. Normally, a person would avoid another contact as such, but the little surprise actually felt a bit reliving and he bit his lips from making any kind of sound.

Lukas eyed for a few seconds before returning unloading the bags. "Same sweater, I see." he commented as he stacked college ruled composition books on top of the binders. "How many days has it been? Mom's going to be mad at this."

"I know, I know," Emil rolled his eyes. "You know this is one of my favorite. Who cares what she thinks. It's so comfortable." he tugged on his sleeve to prove its comfort and skillfully tugging on his injuries to aggravate it more. "Besides, I can say the same thing with that stupid barrette in your hair." He retorted frowning.

"Hair accessories and clothes are two different things," Lukas countered back, not fazed at all at his quick comeback. "It helps me with my bangs. And maybe I should say something about _your_ hair. Such a bed head you are." He brushed a few uneven silver bangs away from Emil's eyes and moved his fingers to comb through his tousled hair. "Maybe you should think about wearing one yourself." He flashed a rare smirk at him to tease him even more.

"Yeah, and look like a gay man." Emil grunted, red faced. He threw his head back, away from the slender fingers that tickled his crown. "Stop doing that! I'm not a kid!"

"Still a kid." he teased once more. He balled up the plastic bags once everything was out and tossed it to the side. Emil sensed his was chuckling in his head by the way he displayed that smirk. He slid the binders, composition books, pencils, and pens to Emil's side. "Take those upstairs. When you're done, go pick up your room. Mom's getting mad at that too. It's a mess just like your hair."

"Alright, alright. Geez, you're starting to sound like her."

As he gathered up his things, frown still in place, he made out the words Lukas commented before turning around to fetch his own school supplies. "Be useful for once, will you brother?"

Everything came to halt.

_Be useful for once will you…those words…no, not again!_

Terror rushed inside as the memories began to process in his head, freezing his movement but sent his heart on a frantic pace. He could recall those words used last time that sent him in the same state before. Those words, before Lukas, those words were said in a much sharper, twenty times more scarier that still roared in his ears.

_Not again, not again!_

His hands dove into his pocket, ready to fish out his trusty razor blade.

Physical pain would alleviate the pain deep within his mind.

Cutting himself made him forget the pain.

And he wanted to do it right now, even if it means to do it right in front of his own oblivious brother.

_Be useful for once will you! Show me you that you're a real man Emil! Huh, you're scared? You little coward, come back here!_

How fast the setting grew heavy for Emil and he began to panic that Lukas will become curious of what he was clenching with his fist. He tried to keep his composure secure and unquestionable. He held his breath, bit his bottom lip harder, deeper, and moved away from the counter.

His memories were still a blur but the words roaring in rage were crystalline clear. He recalled the sight of the wooden floor, the feeling of pain spread across his head, and could smell alcohol. But they all seemed separate the way he could remember. None mixed in to a perfect scene. But he felt afraid, so afraid.

Lukas, with his back turned, was fully unaware of his fear.

He had to go, just for a little bit to take care of the problem.

"Be right back." Was all Emil could think of saying and rushed out the kitchen to the nearest secluded room he could find: the hallway bathroom. His duties had to wait just for a little bit. He shut the door, locked it, and yanked up his sleeve.

_Damn it…_

All of his skin were covered with today's previous episode and kicked himself for not waiting until the end of the day to patch up his wounds. He slid down the bathroom door, trembling. He had to cut somewhere.

Anywhere.

His legs were taken.

Both his arms were taken.

And his stomach was occupied with plenty of red lines as well.

He squeezed his razor harder until it began to hurt, feeling the razor's sharp edge dig deep into his skin. He exhaled heavily.

_Got it!_

Such a relief to find one way to inflict pain. He dropped the razor, using his fingers instead to rub against the cut, spreading it open, spreading out more pain, all in complete silence.

_I'll have to find another way._

He examined his hand, the grotesque red mark ruining his once perfect palm. Now he would have to patch that up right away. His eyes lowered to the bloodied razor. It did his job and he was proud. He took one last look at his new wound, than got up to clean up. Day after day, week after week, it was the same cycle. One sentence, one image, one thought, even one word might set him off everyday.

He thought to himself that he didn't need help.

What he was doing was indeed helping him.

Keeping his sanity intact.


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you so much for the reviews guys! I love you guys!**

Emil bolted towards the bathroom located on the second floor in his high school, stumbled inside, glad that no one else was there, and locked himself inside a stall situated in the middle. It was during switching class and he knew that he couldn't take another class unless he fixed this problem first. With a mild scowl of disdain, he forced himself to sit on the toilet seat as he rummaged through his backpack hastily.

_Ah-hah!_

He pulled out a small razor from the small pocket within his bag, new and clean and pure, for now. His school uniform which, to his happiness and pure luck, consisted of wrist length sleeves perfect to conceal any scars he left behind, were a hassle to roll up, but he thought it was better than no sleeves at all. He nearly tore it up with anticipation and immediately went to work starting between two scabbed slits.

_Thank merciful God…_

His eyes slid shut in grotesque bliss as the razor did its job best, pleasuring the owner's desires. Oh how he needed this. Boring hour after boring hour in school, he was literally itching to work on his arms. When the fourth bell rung, instead of heading to biology class to work further on instructions for safety lessons during experiments, he had to at least fill in two or three new marks. Maybe more if he so wanted to.

Slash, bleed, numb.

Slash, bleed, numb.

He was about to take another swipe with the hungry blade when he suddenly heard the bathroom door swinging open, followed by a heavy as if exasperated sigh. Emil froze, blade just kissing his skin sheen in red. Through the thin cracks of the stall door connected to the just as thin walls, he spotted a boy, as he figured, slumping against the counter of sinks. His bag was slipping from one arm yet he paid no attention to fixing it. He ran the sink, washing and scrubbing his hands in silence.

Emil watched in silence, blade still in position, as the boy raised one of his dripping soapy hands to fix his dark brown locks away from his face which he realized he was Asian. And handsome. Smooth yet firm. His face described to him as strong and independent. A guy who doesn't like being bossed around like him, just like him. His body is slim yet fit, promising of strength and speed. Did he play a sport?

_Wow…_

Too much in awe of the student before him, his blade scrumptiously slipped from his fingers, landing with a metallic click on the tile floor. Drops of blood spotted around it and Emil gasped without a sound. _Damn it!_

"Huh?" He twisted his body back, blinking at the sudden noise with warm brown eyes. He turned back around, already uninterested. Emil promptly retrieved it, stuffing it back in his bag and swiftly rolled down his sleeves. He had to leave now. Being in the same room while committing the act was definitely uncomfortable and stressful. Not even the door blocking the boy's view of his horrible act was convincing enough to stay. He strapped his bag to his side, flung open the door, and bolted right to the exit.

_Don't look, don't look, don't look._

Something small landed on the tile floor with a light tap. Emil's heart dropped dead.

_Oh hell no…_

"Hey, you like drop something." The Asian student said suddenly, monotone but speaking to him nether less. This wasn't good at all. He could hear the boy crouch down to retrieve it for him and he imagined any second now he would gasp, drop it back to the floor and report to the front office about his bloody razor.

Oh god, his high school year will be over as soon as it had begun. All because of one little slip…

But nothing happened and instead of a small freak out expected from a bloody sight, he tapped the back of his shoulder casually and Emil hesitantly turned around. In his hand was a little plush puffin dangling from a little chain connected to a metal ring. His puffin keychain he had received as Welcome-to-high-school gift from Lukas and his mother. It must have slipped from his little dash. His cheeks grew red and shyly took it from his hands, muttering a faint thanks and slipped it in his pocket.

What a relief that was…

"Your arms…" He suddenly pointed out, eyes widening a bit. Emil quickly dropped his eyes down to his arms. Shit, he forgot to patch it up before leaving the stall. A deep patch of crimson was already blossoming from his sleeves. Just fantastic… "What happened to you? Do you like need to do go the nurse or something?"

Hell no! The nurse was his enemy. They'll call him crazy, psychotic, an escaped patient from an insane asylum if they found out his problems. He'll be locked up and kept in a room full of cushions while being strapped up like he was a rabid animal in a cage. He cringed both physically and mentally at the terrible thoughts, causing the boy before him to raise his bushy eyebrows.

"Are you okay? Seriously, you're bleeding an awful lot." He was observant, eyes following the thin trail of blood escaping down his sleeve to the tips of his fingers. Emil quickly hid his arm behind his back.

"I'm fine," He fibbed without making eye contact. "I fell earlier and I came here to fix it up." God, how his lying was horrible when asked at the spot suddenly. There was no way he was going to buy it.

And as predicted, he scrunched up his face in complete disagreement. "Then why were you in a stall and not at the sinks?" He questioned, challenging him.

Emil swallowed thickly.

"I didn't want people to see me."

"Well, you did a pretty poor job on it." He commented in return. "You're still bleeding. Let me help." The last sentence he had said out of kindness. A kind gentleman despite his expression.

He took his hand and was ready to peel his sleeve up but of course he couldn't do that. He yanked his hand back frantically again earning an even more puzzled look. Now he was looking more and more guilty.

"I've got it and besides it's hideous."

"I've seen worse."

"No really, it's sick looking."

"Like I said, I've seen worse. I've seen people being operated on several times already. What? Are you hiding something?"

The last question made Emil's heart jolt painfully against his chest, a pang of guilt spreading through his body faster than his own blood flowing through his veins. It was his first time being asked that question. And by the look in the boy's eyes, he can sense that he had a haunch what was going on.

"You're hiding something. I can tell." He declared like police officer smelling out a suspect. Again, he snatched Emil's wrist, tightening it straight to his bone. Emil winced.

"Let go, you're hurting me! You idiot!" He felt himself becoming frantic, yanking back like a mule in its reigns. It was starting to hurt, the Asian digging his fingers deep where his cuts were hidden. Sharp, stinging, rough, tears were threatening his eyes. It was becoming too close of becoming a pleasurable sensation he sickly yearned for.

"What are you hiding? Tell me? Did someone like hurt you? You're making a mess all over your sleeve."

"It's none of your fucking business! Now. Let. Me. Go!" One final yank and something fell, this time with the same metallic clank he had heard moments ago. His heart dropped as well, blood running terribly cold.

And it was too late to stop the boy from looking down. He had already lowered his head down at the tile floor, eyes widening in complete disbelief. Emil slowly followed and his eyes warmed in threatening tears.

It was his blood smeared razor blade, out and open for the world to see. Why did it have to slip from his hand? Why? Why? Why? There was no point of lying anymore, the cat was out of the bag now and like hell will he even try to fall in any of his lies that were obviously fake.

"You…" He was speechless, face blanched, stunned. "You're cutting yourself?" He didn't wait for Emil to answer as he raised up his sleeve, Emil no longer willing to fight back anymore. As he predicted, red lines scattered across his pale skin, the source of his bleeding, nice and fresh. He cringed, withdrawing his hand back as if avoiding a viscous snake bite. Emil was so ashamed, he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes miserably and he fights to keep them inside.

He was caught. This was it. His life would be over now once words spread out like an outbreak. And Lukas and Mom would find out too…

"What the hell?" He questioned to himself, running his hands through his dark hair, exhaling while taking a cautious step back. Emil couldn't take it anymore. With his heart pulsating quicker, caught literally red handed, he wanted to dissolve through the tile floor and disappear.

"Don't tell anyone about this." He said frantically, tears brimming, expressing complete vulnerability to a boy he never met before. His sleeves lowered though the angry red cuts were still visible for both to see. "Please don't tell anyone. Please. Please!"

He would practically do anything to keep this a secret. And he wasn't afraid to do so. The blade, glimmering underneath the blaring bathroom lights from above gave him the painful reminder of what happened, the reason why he would do such a terrible thing to himself. The boy was still in complete shock, turning around to face the bland wall instead of the horrible mess before him.

"Don't tell anyone…"

"What do you mean don't tell anyone!" He snapped, spinning around in a threatening manner. Emil took a tentative step back, small drops of blood plopping to the floor. "You're cutting yourself. Of course I have to tell someone before it gets worse."

"It wont! Please shut up about this. Pretend you didn't see anything. I'll take care of it myself." He then dropped his bag, rummaging through to retrieve a heaping amount of band-aids. "See? I know what I am doing." He declared, stuffing them back in.

"And when it gets infected?"

"It wont happen."

"How do you know? If that wont happen, maybe bleeding to death will. Do you even know how much blood you lose if you slit your wrist?"

"I'm not thinking of committing suicide if that's what you think." Sure, cutting himself had crossed his mind about ending it all with a final slice to a major artery. But he wasn't going that far. He was a cutter, not suicidal. "Committing suicide is a coward way out I think."

"And this isn't?" Seriously, he was getting on his nerves. What business of his to criticize him. He knew that it wasn't the best decision in the world to purposely harm yourself, but it was the only thing he could now to relieve the tension flowing in his body. Speaking of the tension, the room was becoming so thick, he swore he could slice through it with his razor.

"It's my business!" Emil snapped sharply. "Not yours. You don't even know me!"

"Yes I do!" He countered back, feeling as if he had smacked him across the face. He could only blink, shocked. "In my art class, your brother, Lukas right, is in there and he talked about you that one time. Your name, I'm sure it's Emil. Saying you can be a pain in the ass sometimes."

_Talking behind my back…that idiot!_

"I also saw you walking with him several of times. I knew you two were brothers right away." He said matter-of-factly. "I know you probably don't me so I never said anything to you. But Lukas and I talk all the time. And I can tell him about your little prob-"

"DON'T TELL HIM!" Emil shrilled so loud it vibrated his whole body with such a volume he never thought he could go as far. It was loud enough for someone outside to hear. The last thing he needed was another person involved. "Don't you ever tell him!"

"But he's your brother-"

"I don't care. Let me take care of this. Why do you care anyways? You hardly know me."

"Because I'm a SAFE coordinator assistant." He said, voice lined with seriousness. "I help people with bully problems, stress, or in your case, self-mutilation." With that, he slipped out a small, black tinted card with the bolded red letters SAFE printed against the sleek surface proudly. Emil swallowed. "We have this to prevent harm, both physically and mentally, to our fellow students and have a harmless time during high school. I report issues I find that may be quite horrible for the future. I've seen cases of people considering suicide, but never about someone actually cutting themselves. You're the first."

Emil didn't know what to say. He was torn between saying, "Good for you now leave." or "Will they even help me?" Either way, his lips were sealed shut in a firm, thin line as the boy tucked the card pack in his pocket.

"I'm just doing my job. Helping people from their pain." He said, voice softer than before. "You're right. I don't really know you. But that doesn't matter for me as long as you live without torturing yourself. It's why I follow this." He reached into bag, rummaging through it a bit until he pulled out a slick leather wallet, scrimmaging in until he pulled out another card, thinner than the last one and less durable. He handed it over, waiting until Emil hesitantly took it. "This number, like, will help you if you call them."

"I'm not calling anybody," He nearly shoved the card back in his hand, bending it in the process until a crinkled line split through the middle. "Like I said, I don't need anyone's help. I can take care of it myself."

"By the look of it it's like, telling me a different story."

"Shut up…" He headed over to the sink, purposely shoving him out the way to clean his cuts. They were starting to dry up in reddish brown crust on his skin. As he turned the faucet on, the two minute warning bell rung. To be honest, he didn't care to be late. Being a freshman, he can always make the I-got-lost excuse. He had been late to that class two times already. As he went to apply some bland colored band aids to his arm after rinsing it clean, a card slipped from under his chin. The same card he forcefully shoved back to the Asian.

"I don't care if you never use it, just take it." He demanded stubbornly, keeping it there until Emil finally took it again, grimacing in disdain. "Trust me on this. You should be like happy that someone is willing to help with a problem like yours."

"I never asked for help…" He wanted to say when he whipped his head back to face him but the words only lodged up to his throat at the seriousness in his eyes.

"Consider it, okay?" With that, he turned on his heel and headed towards the door to exit. The card in Emil's hand started to bend as he clenched his fist.

"Who are you anyways?" Emil questioned before the Asian had a chance to push the door open. "Since you know my name, I want to know yours too. Or if you want me to call you 'Jerk' for the rest of the school year, you better tell me your name."

"Just call me Leon." He said simply and slipped outside the bathroom just as the late bell shrilled through the building.

Once the door closed again, Emil let out an agitated snort through his nose. "Leon huh?" He mumbled and glanced down at the card, reading the numbers provided with disinterest. Calling will only make it worse. And what if they contacted his mom? And Lukas will surely find out if that happened. It was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

But why? Why, why, why, why, why, why did it have to be turned out like this? After how long he had done this in secrecy, he was certain he would never be caught. And of all people, a SAFE coordinator assistant. That name left a sick aftertaste in his stomach and he clenched his pale fist until it became ruddy with building anger. He could feel the card bend again in his sweaty palms, squeezing it tighter and tighter as hard as he can, grazing the gradually healing wound he made days ago.

Tearing his eyes away from his fist, he released another aggravated sigh, this time huskier with a slight growl bubbling in his throat. No tears escaped, but his face was burning. His body shook, and after taking one look at the bland wall, he rammed his fist at it as if it were Leon himself.

Pain shot through his hands, up his scarred arm, and he winced with a scowl. "Fuck..." he muttered, his voice wavering. Not the best idea in the world, but it beats screaming out all your frustration. as loud as the school bell. His fist shivered open painfully, revealing the disfigured card. His life was officially over.

_Leon..._

With his hand blossoming a purplish red, he shoved it in the trash can where it belonged. "I don't need your fucking help."


	3. Chapter 2

It was a Sunday afternoon, a sudden storm blustering outside, and the two brothers had situated themselves in front of the TV, neither indulged at the program blaring at the screen. Lukas watched absently while twirling one of his blond curls idly while Emil sat, picking at his sleeves where the cuts began to irritate his skin. Traditionally on Sundays, their mother would leave to shop and leave them alone together as a way for more bonding. At first it was fun for the two to be home alone together, fooling around without their mother scolding their shenanigans. Music on the radio would blast on full volume, they would raid the refrigerator with Lukas hogging the snack cakes and Emil with a two liter bottle of coke. It was fun, stupid but fun that once made Emil genuinely smile. That seemed like years ago. Music no longer roared through the radio, the kitchen was kept perfectly clean, the only things that were keeping Emil awake was the bright TV screen and the pattering of raindrops colliding against the window.

Everything seemed so…bland.

"That's just odd." Lukas commented at the TV once the program went to commercial break, lowering the volume with his remote. He glimpsed over at his brother eyeing his fingers pull against his sleeve like a nervous tick. "Addicted to chili dogs. Won't they get tired of eating the same thing over and over again?"

Emil rolled his eyes. "Says you." He harrumphed loud enough for Lukas to catch. "Your addiction to butter grosses me out everyday." It was so gross when Emil happened to be near the kitchen to catch Lukas in the act, dipping his spoon in a tub of butter and eat it just like that. The mere thought was enough to bother him.

Lukas snorted. "It's not an addiction," He denied listlessly. "it's a nice snack after dealing with Mathias all day."

"Then why are you dating him?"

"You know what I mean Emil. He has those moments where you just want to choke him with his own tie."

It was Emil's turn to snort. Mathias, Lukas' boyfriend for several years, was infamous for two things: his egotistical personality and his incredibly unnecessary loud voice. Emil would bet that he never heard the words "humble" or "whisper".

"Whatever." Emil averted his eyes to the television. _Another reality show of pregnant teenagers? That's stupid…_

"Hmm." Lukas hummed and slipped the Nordic cross barrette from his hair. He twirled it lazily. "A human's mind is so complicated."

"Huh?"

"The human mind," He repeated. "you ever wonder why people develop these strange habits and makes it nearly impossible to stop it? I always wonder what goes on in their heads."

Emil's heart gave a jolt but kept his composure intact. "Maybe it's for relief." He said, blurting the first thing that popped in his head. "You ever thought of that?"

"Is that how you look at it?"

Emil shrugged. He knew his cutting habits weren't an addiction. Because, an addiction was usually when a person knows about their problem, right? His case he looked as a daily habit. It was just something that had to be done daily. So technically, it wasn't an addiction, right? He never looked at it as anymore than that. "I guess. probably." He mumbled his answer. "It seems like that in ever case. Trying to find a way to cheer them up. It just ends up like this I guess."

It strongly reminded him of his problem but he quickly shook of the possibility of it being an addiction. Habits and addiction are two different things, he told himself mentally and his eyes flicked back to the television screen. The program was back and so was the obese lady shoving down another chili dog. He grimaced in disdain.

"Can we watch something more appealing?" He asked just as the lady reached over for another dog. It was making his stomach churn at the sight of so much chili, his least favorite food.

"Like what?" Lukas asked back, retrieving the TV remote and began channel surfing. He was moving too fast that Emil could barely keep up with him on the channels. "There's nothing good on Sundays."

"Something that deals with less chili." Was his response, slouching in his seat, shutting his eyes to concentrate keeping his food down and back in his stomach.

Lukas shrugged, stopping at the Food Network where, fortunately for Emil, they were preparing pot roast. He tossed the remote aside, crossing his legs. "You know Emil, I never told anyone this but I use to have this huge OCD with my rabbits."

"Rabbits?" Emil cracked open one pink eye.

"Yeah, I use to have a collection of pink rabbits when we were younger." He said, mildly glaring at Emil who was trying to suppress a snicker. "I use to fret everyday if they weren't in the right order or in the right position. It drove me crazy."

"Pink rabbits wow Lukas…"

"Shut up. I couldn't keep myself from doing it either. It was impulsive. And suddenly, it stopped and I was back to myself. It was weird. To this day, I still wonder why I did and how it stopped. You ever had a bad habit?" 

_Yeah, lacerating my body until I bleed._

Of course he couldn't say that so instead he mumbled, "No." And his arms began to tingle with want.

"Not one?"

"No. I'm not weird like you." Emil received a rough punch on the shoulder. Well predicted from him. He brushed it off, concentrating more of the sting in his arms rather than the dull ache. Earlier today, he had an episode and was quickly done within ten minutes and patched up for the day. He was in no mood to continue such task, especially with Lukas stuck in the house with him. But the mentioning of addictions triggered sparks somehow.

Lukas yawned hugely, ignoring his manners for once. It always irked Emil whenever he was instructed to be more proper. He was a hormonal teenaged boy. He already had enough as it is. "This channel is boring me." With that, Lukas changed channels, breezing past all the commercials with a quick tap of his finger. Emil agreed too and felt his stomach rumble. He swore he heard Lukas' earlier.

He glimpsed at the digital clock. It was around lunch time and Emil had skipped breakfast thanks by staying late at night doing absolutely nothing.

"I'm going to make lunch," Lukas announced getting up from the sofa and stretched his aching limbs. "You want anything?"

Emil shrugged. "Anything you're making." He answered simply.

"Alright, sandwiches it is." Lukas wasn't as good as a chef, just the basics, but he did create decent sandwiches. His baking skills were phenomenal and his monthly baked butter cake was always something to look forward to.

He ambled to the kitchen as Emil began to pick at his nails. Not even a minute later, Lukas gasped aloud. "Emil, what's the bird doing in the kitchen?"

"What?" Emil blinked then recalled his previous action earlier. His pet bird, a puffin from Iceland cutely named Mr. Puffin (Emil sucked at naming pets but not as much as his friend Tino who named his dog Flower Egg), was getting antsy in his cage, so he let him out to stretch out his wings. Evidently, Emil had forgotten to put him back in his cage. He stifled a laugh and headed over to the kitchen.

Mr. Puffin squawked from atop the fridge, flapping his wings lively. Lukas crossed his arms glaring both at the bird and his owner. "Explain." He demanded.

"I let him out the cage to give him some air." Emil said. "It's no big deal. He didn't make a mess at least."

"You gotta go! You gotta go!" The puffin squawked. Neither brothers knew that puffins could talk…a lot. They never taught the bird anything but after a marathon of the Godfather films, Mr. Puffin began to quote the movies lines nonstop. It drove the household nuts.

"Get him out of here now." Lukas glowered venomously. "Or it'll have to be puffin for lunch."

"He's not bothering you is he? He's not flying around."

"Now Emil." Sighing, Emil gave a short whistle, offering his himself to perch. Obediently, Mr. Puffin understood and dove down to his shoulder, folding his sleek black wings. For a nine year old, he was still energetic as a hatchling. He shown no signs of aging, which made him wonder what the puffin's average lifespan was.

"And you call me weird…" Lukas breathed with a frown. "Seriously, who keeps a talking puffin as a pet?"

"Shut up."

"You gotta go, you gotta go." Mr. Puffin clacked his colorful beak. Maybe it would be best if Emil tied his beak with a rubber band like they do with lobster claws.

"Sometimes I wish you were watching a comedic act with your bird. Maybe it'll be funny if he started telling jokes." Lukas drawled. It shocked Emil greatly when he'd announced that he didn't care for the Godfather series. Mr. Puffin just loved to torture him. He clacked his beaks again as if he was laughing.

"Cut! Cut! Cut!"

Emil's blood immediately ran cold. He didn't remember that from the movie. Lukas gave them another funny look. "What is he saying now?" He questioned.

"Err…" Maybe cooking him now didn't seem such a bad idea. "He's just blabbering again. Puffins do that you know."

"I thought puffins didn't speak to begin with."

"I thought so too. We were both wrong. I'm going to put him away now." He hurried out the kitchen before Lukas could say anything else and into his bedroom. He nearly shoved him back in his cage and locked eyes with his pet bird, bristling.

"Are you trying to expose me?" He asked sternly to Mr. Puffin.

Mr. Puffin tilted his head in quick movements. "It's a Sicilian message." He said in return. _Dumb bird…_

Emil could recall telling Lukas "Cut it out!" several of times before, but he never thought Mr. Puffin could remember one of those words, especially the worst of them all. Of course, Lukas had not idea of his terrible secret and hearing a birdbrain like Mr. Puffin repeat something like that wouldn't trouble him the least. Maybe birds were smarter than he thought.

"Cut! Cut! Cut!"

"Shut up already!" Emil barked, frustration seeping in. "I know already. Stop pestering me."

"Cut! Cut! Cut!"

"Enough!" His arms were tingling again. Each word was setting him off the edge and just when he thought he could keep himself from doing it. His mind was sent to blur, his limbs grew boneless, and he collapsed on his knees. He couldn't do it. He couldn't hold himself much longer and he dug through his pocket frantically and whipped out his razor.

He pulled up his sleeve, arms free from any coverings, and suddenly, he stopped halfway. For once, the sight disturbed him. Lacerations, old and new decorating his arm had made his stomach squeeze tightly. He had never realized until now how ugly his secret really was.

_No wonder Leon freaked…_

The blade was slipping from his fingers.

_Maybe I should really stop…_

At first, he felt a rush of easiness flooding his body. He felt calmer, as if he could really stop himself. But, as quick it began, it ended with a jolt of terror and anxiety. Memories whirled in his head before he could tame it and as if by instinct, he had already made the first cut along his arm. It took three slashes to have it dawn on him what he was really doing.

Shame kicked in and no matter how much he tried to stop himself, the impulses raged further and further like an angry monster. He wanted to stop. Emil was becoming terrified of his own body.

_I want to stop, but I can't…I can't stop!_ _I don't like it but it feels like it's my only answer to the solution._

He was starting to regret the throwing away the number Leon gave him. He was positive that his problem could be easily fixed just by telling himself to stop. Why did things have to be this difficult? The moment he threw that card away, he was sure his memories of Leon would be thrown away with it. Why couldn't it be like that? If he didn't call, then everything would be back to normal, right? Why does it feel worse?

_You need this Emil. You need this to help you. You know why you're doing this and it's no one's business but yours. This is your only medicine._

His impulses felt stronger than before and once his body was appeased to the new edition of cuts and slashes, he sunk deeper to the floor and tossed the stained razor aside. Sometimes he couldn't help but hate himself. Ever since Leon appeared, his thoughts about cutting himself felt stronger and scarier.

_Damn it, what has Leon done to me? I don't know how much I could take anymore of this._

He buried his face in his hands, quaking.

_I don't think I could do this on my own anymore. But I cant go to Leon now. Not after what I've done._

He raised his head, contemplating whether or not if he should. Or to Lukas. He didn't know what to do. All he could do was tremble, eyeing the bloodied razor on the floor. A morbid thought crossed his mind then.

_What if I could end the misery forever?_

He took the razor back in his hand, gazing at its sharp edges almost admiringly. If he did, no longer would he have to suffer.

Maybe, that was his answer…

_Knock, knock._

"Emil? Lunch's been ready for awhile now. Are you having trouble with that dumb bird again?"

Emil snapped out of his thoughts quickly, snapping his eyes over to the door, heart thrumming in a fast pace. He slid his razor in his pocket. "I-I'll be in there in a minute. Start without me." He replied back and eased himself back on his feet. His legs were quivering and he felt lightheaded but managed to drag himself in the bathroom for a quick wash up to clean away any evidence of his dark secret.

As he did, he glanced up at his reflection, mildly taken aback at the sight of his poor, pallid self with darkish rings under his eyes. He already looked dead. He sighed. He was just as a mess on the outside as he was on the inside.

The thoughts about suicide also made frequent appearance his head more. Again, he was becoming afraid.

_I don't want to leave Mom and Lukas. But sometimes I wonder if it'll be best if I weren't here at all to begin with._

He shook his head.

_Here I go again! Listen to yourself, you sound like a suicidal downer! I can't do that. I just can't. I need help, I know I do. But I can't ask anyone for help. That's it, tomorrow, I'm looking it up on the computer. I'll take care of it the best I can. I must. I have no one to trust but myself with this. If I can't do it then…I don't know…_

He dabbed himself dry with a towel.

"Cut! Cut! Cut!"

He glowered back at Mr. Puffin. _First thing for sure I have to shut him up before Lukas becomes suspicious. If he's not already…Maybe he does know. That conversation earlier, about addictions. But I know I don't have an addiction so I don't know what he's talking about. Besides, if he knew, he would ask right away anyways._

Emil checked his cuts for any blood. They were clean, in a way, and Emil mutely rolled his sleeves down sharply, sick of seeing it.

**Hey! Sorry if it wasn't the most exciting chapter. I wrote this to show their lack of brotherly love really. It definitely plays a big role in the story and I had to get this done. But I had a little bit fun writing this still especially with Lukas. The butter habit is actually what I do when I need to think or if I'm sad. Just stick a spoonful and eat. That or I eat cake batter. And somehow I'm still small and skinny.**

**Also, thank you so much for the reviews! I love when some of you guys said how captivating (I love that word!) and emotional it is. It's pretty hard to write down something emotional and hope that the readers feel it too. So reading this definitely boosted up my confidence.**

**One more thing, I highly doubt puffins can actually talk. But I couldn't resist right?**


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! The holidays has passed, we survived the end of the world, ready to have a new year, and now, a new chapter of My Scars is published! These reviews, man, are amazing! Twenty for one chapter! That makes me really happy.**

_Happy place… find your happy place…_

Emil drummed his fingers nervously against the living room table as the familiar sensation blinded his senses, hoping it'll pass soon and he can get back to doing math homework. His arms were wrapped tightly in a thin layer of gauze, almost to the point that the blood circulation would cease to continue. It was his first step of ending it, and now it's his first attempt of preventing himself from doing it.

_It'll pass…it'll pass…just breathe. Just breathe…_

Oh, but how enticing it would be to just do it. Let the razor take care of your problems. He could feel his arms begging for them but he briskly slammed his hand down the table with a loud smack as if to knock some sense in those terrible hands that committed the stinging pain. He forced himself to pay attention, close attention to the whimsical melody Lukas was playing with his violin. By the quick upbeat, he could tell Lukas was playing out of fun instead of practicing for one of those repetitive orchestra concerts. By what he could tell, he was reciting one of his favorite songs, Fairytale. It was weird despite how bland he was in person, he was lively and flamboyant when it came to the violin. It was like the instrument completely transformed him.

Emil knew when Lukas played the violin usually meant he was trying to be in his happy place. Emil had once thought of taking lessons with a piano to ease his nerves, but when he really thought about it, he didn't want to waste his time with an instrument he had no interest in playing. It would only add more to his stress. That, and the boy at school who was a prodigy behind the piano was a total snob.

His puffin was nesting on top his platinum blond hair, his favorite spot despite the plenty other spaces that could be used as a make shift nest. He would never have thought that puffins were needy and cuddly. Maybe it was Mr. Puffin's happy place to be with him, or to use his head.

The pencil nearly snapped in his hand. Even a freaking _bird_ has a happy place…

_Come on Emil, you told yourself before. Find your happy place and get over it._

But what happy place? The only happy place he could remember was something he practiced when he was little and still in grade school. He totally outgrew that years ago. He reached for some licorice in a small bowl adjacent from the textbook, hidden among sheets of notes and references.

Mathias would be arriving soon to visit, though he would probably only visit Emil for no longer than ten minutes till he would lock himself in Lukas' room, of course along with his brother, doing who knows what. And like hell would Emil make himself look decent for an idiot like the Dane. His hair was still tousled from sleeping and he was positive that Mr. Puffin had doubled the frazzles.

The music stopped, then seconds later Lukas' door opened. Without looking up, Emil could see with the corner of his eyes Lukas, hair fleshly brushed with his trademark barrette, amble to the kitchen mutely. He had a sick inkling that he was taking a "butter break".

"Studying over there?" Lukas called out opening the fridge with a clean silver spoon in hand.

"Yeah…" Well, he was until the urge drowned it out. His nails scraped the sleek surface of the table. "You can say that."

"Do you even understand it?" A small little click indicated that he had just opened the lid to the tub of butter.

"Duh."

"So what's the problem then?" A short pause to take in a spoonful. Ew. "Emil?"

"It's nothing." Emil quickly said. He still wasn't ready to tell him yet. If he'll ever tell him, much to his disdain, he knew that Lukas would run in to tell Mom. It was the sincere truth and he knew it a hundred percent.

Another short pause. Emil grimaced. "No double dips! We all share from the same butter you know!"

"Whoops." He said, but he knew that he wasn't sorry about it at all. He would probably sneak in another bite before he was satisfied.

His arms shivered and he gave himself a harsh smack. It stung his wounds pleasantly, hoping that would keep him off for awhile.

Just then, someone barged in the front door, hollering with a strong Danish accent, "Lukas! The Great Dane is here!"

Great.

"Lukas! Your stupid boyfriend's here."

"I heard. I heard." Lukas shuffled out of the kitchen and before he could protect himself, Mathias barreled himself right to the smaller man, nearly sending them both toppling to the tile floor.

Mr. Puffin squawked, startled. He flapped his wings, taking off from Emil's head, and soared over to his other favorite spot: the top of the refrigerator and folded his sleek black wings. Lukas would have scolded him for not controlling his pet bird if Mathias didn't have him in a deep lip lock. He cleared his throat, reminding them he was still in their presence.

Lukas was the first to pull away, giving him a shove back for some space. "Save that for my room." _Eww, gag._

"Heh, sorry, sorry." Mathias gave a broad smile, turning his attention to Emil. He ruffled his hair saying, "Look at the little freshman working there. That's so cute!"

"Cut it out! You're messing my hair." He smacked his hand away.

"Like it's not messy already." Lukas made a quick jab, raking his own perfectly combed hair.

"Nah, I like the messy look on him. It suits him. But if he ever wants a new hairstyle, I'll show you all my tricks with the miracle hair gel!"

"I rather not." Emil grimaced visibly.

"Hey, it's easier than you think it is. Everyone'll go nuts over your new look."

"No." He tried to focus back to his homework, like that would ever happened when Mathias was here.

"Emil?"

"What now Lu?"

"A friend of mine is dropping off my sketchbook soon. You get the door and let him in." He ordered him rather than asking politely. He was just like Mom.

"Why do I have to let him in?" He asked before whistling Mr. Puffin over. He frowned when the puffin refused to listen and plopped down to rest on top the fridge, teasing him. "He's just dropping that off, right?"

"He wants to speak to you." Lukas said, the two making their way over to his room for whatever was about to begin.

"Me? That's weird."

"Yeah, who would want to visit you?"

"Screw you!" He snatched a nearby pencil and hurled straight to Lukas. He avoided it adroitly with a smirk displayed openly. Ugh! How that smile always got to him the most. That stupid "I won" smile. And with that, the two left him behind.

Figuring they wouldn't return for quite a while, Emil then fished out his phone, plugged in his earphones, and searched through his music until he found the Jonsi album. Music would help soothe his nerves for now.

Emil had reached the second page of his algebra workbook when he heard the faint sound of the doorbell ringing followed by knocking at the front door through the music blasting in his eardrums. He wasn't surprised that he managed to hear the doorbell. He made sure the volume of his phone would still keep himself aware of his surroundings. Once, Mathias had freaked him out when he stood like a statue in front of him, silent and still until Emil finally rose his head from his phone. He made sure Mathias would leave their house with a black eye. Emil stood up from his seat and popped out his earphones as he made his way to the door. Whoever wanted to talk to him will have to make it quick.

But when he swung open the door, he instantly wanted to slam the door.

Standing there with a fat black sketchbook tucked under his arm, was Leon.

"Hey. I, like, didn't expect you to answer the door." The Asian said with interest. "Ruined the surprise."

Emil's cheeks burned a vivid red. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to deliver this sketchbook to Lukas and leave originally, but since you guys live together, I want to like chat with you and your problem." He replied casually, slipping inside without Emil's consent.

"What problem?" Emil jumped and whipped his head back. How long had Lukas been standing there?

"Homework!" Emil blurted hastily and snapped his head back to glare at Leon. Leon only blinked innocently, glancing at Lukas, then at him.

"You didn't tell him?"

"No, he didn't." Lukas answered for him, looming over him with his arms crossed. "I thought you understood what you were doing?"

"What are you now, my mother?"

"I can help," Leon offered, handing Lukas the sketchbook. "I'm good with homework unless it's with history. I suck at that."

"It's math actually." Lukas again cutting in between Emil and Leon. "He'll need all the help you can give. He tends to wonder off when you explain things to him."

"I do not."

"Thanks a bunch Leo." He said and strode back to his room.

"Yeah, thanks a bunch Leo." Emil harrumphed frostily, closing the front door behind them. He felt threatened by Leon's presences. His comment would have sparked suspicion to Lukas if he hadn't thought up a stupid lie. He presumed Leon wasn't the shy type and spoke freely of what crossed his mind like Lukas. The dangerous type.

"So," Leon began, crossing over to the living room idly, taking in the house with curious eyes. "Problems with math eh?"

"It's not true," Emil corrected. "I haven't told Lukas yet."

He clicked his tongue. "I assumed that already. And why not?"

"Because I'm not ready to," Emil frowned deeply. "And besides, I'm taking care of it myself."

Leon furrowed his bushy eyebrows. "And how's that going?"

_Not so well._ "It's going just fine. In fact, by the end of this week, I would no longer need to be wearing sleeves. Wounds are already healing up faster than you can say Eyjafjallajökull."

Leon gave a short laugh. "You're, like, obviously bluffing." He pointed out with a roll of his eyes. He leaned forward with hands akimbo. "So how's it really going? Did you even bother to call?"

"…" Oh yeah, that card he threw away right after he left. Who cared anyways? He didn't want anyone else in his business. Speaking of, he wished Leon would stay out of his and shut the hell up.

"You're only making it harder on yourself you know."

"Shut up. If you only want to talk by badgering me, then go! I have stuff to do."

"Cutting yourself?"

"Hush!" He smacked a hand over his mouth. Yes, he really was the dangerous type. Especially when he took his hand and rolled back his sleeve with a quick swipe.

He shook his head in disapproval. "Tsk, from band aids to fully wrap your arm with gauze? Yeah, what an improvement."

"That's to help me," he growled, yanking his arm back. When Leon raised an eyebrow in confusion, he finished, "it prevents me from cutting myself. See?" He pinched it for example. "Layers to rip out."

"And your legs?"

"I don't wrap them up."

"Let me see them." He dropped himself down on the sofa, puffing away a dark lock away from his nose.

"What? No!"

"What, you, like, have something to hide from me again?"

"No! It's not as bad." But he obliged just for him to shut up and rolled his pant legs up, revealing his pale legs with light lines running across. They were hardly noticeable and Emil rarely bothered to tear his legs apart if his arms were so convenient. It was a big contrast compared to his other limbs that it felt weird they were both shared in one body.

Finally, after observing his skin, Leon nodded in approval. "Okay, now your stomach."

"I don't really do it there either." He groaned, rising up his shirt just a little above his navel. His cheeks heated up as he sucked in his stomach to keep it looking slim. "Did you expect me to cover that up as well too? Hell, I'll dress up as a fucking mummy for the rest of my life to please you."

"If it'll help then sure." Leon shrugged, brushing away more of his bangs to the side.

"I was being sarcastic, dumbass."

"But it was a good idea and I prefer being called a smartass, thank you."

"Whatever, what I'm doing now is working, sort of…I still don't need your help." Emil said tartly, folding his arms.

"Well, the reason why I came here is…is that a puffin?"

Emil averted his eyes back to the table. Sure enough, his puffin flapped his wings for attention. At least he wasn't on the fridge again. He clacked his colorful beak to his owner. Leon was speechless with his finger in midair in disbelief. "Oh him? Yeah, that's a puffin." He whistled for him and was glad that he obeyed, sailing over to nestle back on his head. "What? You never seen one in person before?"

It took awhile for Leon to speak again. "Only at Seaworld. Are you being serious? You have a puffin, like, as for a pet?"

"Yeah." Emil answered shortly and shrugged. What was the big deal anyway? It was a bird, not a freaking lion.

"That's…pretty cool." He vacated his spot on the sofa to get a better look. "And to think you couldn't get any weirder." Emil glowered at that but cracked a smile when Mr. Puffin tried snatch Leon's finger with his beak.

"Don't call me that." He headed over to the table, shutting his workbook. Guess he wouldn't be returning to work for awhile. "Let's go to my room. I still don't feel comfortable talking about this here."

* * *

><p>"Geez, this room is, like, a mess." Leon quickly commented when they walked in Emil's bedroom. His room was situated towards the back of the house, thankfully away from Lukas' room. Not that he would hear them. The walls were thick and sturdy, that and they were probably preoccupied with other unmentionables. "Do you ever pick up after yourself?" He kicked aside a shoebox that was in the way.<p>

"I wasn't expecting any company." Emil scowled, flopping himself down on his bed, Mr. Puffin gliding over to perch on his desktop. "So you were saying before you got all tongue-tied on me?"

"It was about why I came to talk to you." Leon said, settling in Emil's office chair, swerving to face him. "I want you to give me a second chance on helping you."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you look like a wreck that's why."

"I told you I can take care of it myself. How many fucking times do I have to remind you that?" Seriously, how many times did he have to repeat that to him? Was he that thick in the head?

"You don't look any better. Trust me. You don't look like the person who stopped cutting themselves. You still look like you're in pain. I still see you in the hallways. Head down and by himself."

"I'm not." He denied, but knew he was telling the truth. He has been in pain. A pain that numbed his whole body to only strike dully for days. The never ending pain inside. He suddenly felt heavy inside himself.

"Look at yourself in the mirror Emil! You look terrible. I don't know you very well, but I know, like, you don't always look like this. There was this story I heard from a friend who worked at the SAFE program for years. A girl, young and beautiful girl was stricken with this terrible sadness. No one knew what was wrong with her. She wouldn't tell anyone. She was cutting herself like you did but it was all over her body. She refused any help no matter what. She was fading away from everyone including her family. And, one day, they found her in her room. She bled to death from slitting her wrist." He cleared his throat. "I never met her, but how my friend described her matches you right now-"

"I know how I look okay?" Emil cried, clenching his fist. "I know I look terrible. I know, I know, I know! Stop telling me that. That doesn't mean anything! And don't compare me ever again to a dead girl."

"I can help you." Leon looked at him straight in the eyes. They were warm and sincere, and for a split second, Emil felt light again. "Trust me. I'm here to make your life better. You should be thankful I'm offering to help you."

"I don't know why." Emil said lowly. "You barely know me. Just a weird brother of your classmate who happens to have a pet puffin and cuts himself. I know it's your job to help people like me but why are you persistent to help _me_ when I keep saying no? Why do you want to help me so badly that you had to come to my house and offer to help me again? Why? Tell me why!"

"Because I don't want to see you unhappy!" Leon suddenly exploded. It caused Emil to jump. "Don't you get it? Please look at yourself for love of Almighty! Do you like seeing yourself with the deepest frown? To look like you haven't slept in days? To look so pale you like one of the undead? What do you think when you see all the scars on your arms? Anger? Misery? Regret? How do you feel to know that you have been causing all this to yourself?"

Emil was feeling heavier and heavier by the second. He swallowed, feeling heated all of the sudden.

"When I first saw you in that bathroom, I knew something was bothering you by your demeanor. I wanted to know what's wrong, until I saw your arms. I don't know why, but, to be honest, I felt like I should protect you from harm, even if it's you that's harming you."

_Shut up Leon. Shut up, shut up, shut up._

"I know it sounds stupid," Leon continued, dropping his gaze to think what to say next. "I guess it's just instinct for helping people in the past. And I want to help as many as possible. You, I feel needs help the most. And I feel like I should be the one to do that. I don't want the same thing to happen to you as it did with her." He cracked his stiff fingers.

Emil didn't know what to say. Guilt was washing over him along with humiliation, fear, and that terrible pain. It was becoming too much for him to handle. He swallowed again, but felt unable to do that as his lips quivered. He lowered his head away from him. Leon was right in so many ways. His sadness, his miserable appearance, he wanted help. But another part of him told him no, he could take care of it all by himself. That was a complete, utter lie. The tragic story of that one girl was the road he was going, he knew by heart that's where he was leading to. The suicidal thoughts he was so in denial of believing they were really his own morbid thoughts were awakening just like it did with her. She gave in, but could he? His face grew hotter, scorching even.

"Emil, do you want to die?"

"!" That question was unexpected, and he found himself completely at loss of words. His heart hammered against his chest painfully.

"Last time you said you weren't suicidal," Leon explained softly. "But now, you look like you're ready to end it any day."

"I know." Was all Emil said.

"Know what?"

"What she must have been through." It was becoming harder to control the flow of his emotions and he inhaled shakily. "I know how she felt. Lately, I've been having compulsive thoughts of killing myself. Just so I can end this pain. I want it to end. I can't live like this anymore!" He couldn't hold it back anymore. A single tear snaked down his eyes, over his pallid cheeks, to drip down his chin. He was scared. No, terrified. He was only a freshman in high school. He couldn't die with so many things he hadn't accomplished in life. "But I don't want to die. I don't. I'm afraid to die. But these thoughts, these impulses, they wont go away!"

He wanted his razor, his scissors, anything. He needed to take away the pain. He drew up his hand to his face and ran his nails through his cheek.

"I need help." He whispered meekly and started to weep. His cold demeanor had cracked completely like an fragile egg. The stupid, stupid, _stupid_, Leon had actually made him cry. But he also had opened his eyes to his dark future. He didn't know if he should be thankful for that or not.

He didn't know how long he had been crying until he felt weight dip on the bed beside him and arms finding themselves around his thin body, pulling him to heat. Before, he would have whacked him like Lukas would have down with Mathias. Now, he felt his own body betray him and drew himself closer, weeping softly on Leon's broad shoulders. For a dangerous guy like him, he gave the best hugs.


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey! Sorry for the wait. Thank you again for the reviews! They mean so much. And for those who tell me I have mistakes in these chapters, I'm really sorry for that and the chapters will be updated and hopefully all the errors cleared out! I do appreciate you guy's help. And for those who don't want me to discontinue this, don't worry about that. I'm planning on updating until the end of the story.**

**So far this is the longest chapter now. I might make the chapters a little longer as the story progresses. Yay for long chapters!**

Emil had found himself in a bizarre dream that night. He was floating in darkness, feeling pressured like he was submerged in frigid water, like the water surrounding his homeland. He could feel his hair sway coolly, feel his arms move heavily as he clawed through the empty space, groping for anything to latch his hand to. It was a first reaction, he realized. He wasn't afraid, for some reason he felt too accustomed to this and allowed his body to drift to nowhere. He didn't feel that anything dangerous would snatch him, take him away to somewhere darker, drearier. He felt his body heat up, coaxing the cold to warm around him.

Was he dead?

No, this was only a dream. This was only a figment of his imagination that spurred while he was still asleep in his room, cheeks still stained with the streaks his tears left behind. A very vivid dream that he specifically remembered giving him cold shivers throughout his body like electric waves. He eyes fell shut smoothly. For such a depressing atmosphere, he wanted to linger here forever. Emil didn't feel any pain. His arms didn't sting under this kind of water. He didn't feel the dull ache inside either.

There was nothing but calmness.

He wished reality was more like this.

Suddenly, his hands felt a smooth, flat surface, incredibly warm in contrast. Light penetrated through his eyelids and he peeked them open. He gazed ahead, puzzled. It was glass. A large wall of it with no ends. And at the other side of it was light, permeating a pleasurable heat he couldn't remember feeling before. It was soothing against his palm and he drank it in greedily. He wouldn't care if his hand had melted then, it was too good to let go. Through the nearly blinding light, he saw figures. Adjusting his vision and reshaping the colors and structure, he recognized their stature, their pose, their smiles. He saw Mathias, grinning broadly without a care in the world. Beside him was his own brother, peering up at his boyfriend and moved his lips as if to say something. He didn't know what he said but if effected Mathias who dropped his smile. His mother was there too, running her delicate fingers through her blond hair. Her eyes flicked from one corner to the other, searching. Emil felt his heart thump when saw the word she formed in her lips.

Emil.

They were looking for him. They had to be. But couldn't they see him? He could see them, why couldn't they?

Emil clenched his fist and gave the glass a strong bang. No one noticed it.

_Like they do in reality…_

His chest tightened. No, they paid attention to him all the time. Lukas, Mom, even stupid Mathias noticed him everyday. He wanted to know why they stopped now. The thought made the water icy again. This time it no longer felt calming. He realized it now, he didn't want to be alone. Mom looked worried. Her youngest son missing, why wouldn't she?

He rammed his fist on the glass again as hard as he could. Please, someone get him out of there! He never knew how good warmth felt. How isolated he was. The dark felt like it was reaching for him, dragging him back to the abyss. Letting go of the heat sent goosebumps down his arms. Seeing them left his heart heavy and slow.

Emil wanted out and so he was going to get it. Drawing back his arm, clenching his fist until they turned a sickly white, he thrust back with all the strength he could muster right in the glass, crumbling to tiny fragments of diamonds.

Pain seeped in. Sharp, stinging pain. Shards from miniscule to finger length impaled itself deep in his skin. Ribbons of blood spiraled out, breezing past his astonished self. The hole he created were encircled with dagger like edges, promising to skin him if he made another attempt.

The pain was spreading through his arm, up his shoulder, crawling in his neck to reach his head. He felt dizzy. Two Lukas' stood shaking in to one then back to two. He moved to rub his eyes but his arm caked in glass and blood told him otherwise. He shrank back from the wall apprehensively.

He felt the urge to try again, but his body refused, reminding him what will happen if he tried again.

So he sank back in the darkness, watching as the light fade away to nothing more than a little glimmer.

Emil awoke back in the comfort of his bed, blankets sprawled over his thin, sweating body. He sat up and scrubbed his eyes. He peeled back his sleeves. No glass. Just the plain white gauze. He sighed and sank back in his mattress, gazing at the ceiling fan whirling above. He once thought that listening to it functioning was soothing and easily brought him to sleep. He didn't feel a bit tired.

He checked the time, reading far too early for him to be awake at this time of day, and sighed. Annoyed, he dragged himself out of bed, padding quietly out of his room to not wake up Mr. Puffin. He groped through the darkened hallway, deciding to fetch himself a glass of cold water from the fridge rather than the sink in his bathroom and watch a late night program while he was up. When he passed by the closet full of towels, he saw a flicker of pulsating lights at the end. Curiously, he headed over. Once he reached there, he spotted Lukas, curled up on the sofa with the TV blaring one of those stupid paid programs. He appeared to be fast asleep. He frowned. Even while asleep, he still beat him to something.

Emil headed over to the kitchen, downed his glass of water, cold and refreshing to his dry mouth, and went back to the living room anyways to watch TV. He plucked the remote from the coffee table and gently dropped Lukas' legs to the carpet to make room for him to sit. Emil channel surfed rapidly and stopped to watch a rerun of South Park and raised the volume up just a little. Though his eyes were fixed to the TV screen, he kept seeing the other side of the glass wall with everyone looking for him. Including Lukas. But here he was, oblivious to him again. And he was sitting right there of all places.

He bit the insides of his cheek. He shouldn't dwell so hard on a dream. They were usually stupid anyways.

Lukas stirred, blinking his deep blue eyes awake. He squinted from the TV, adjusting to the light and stretched. His foot hit Emil's leg and he raised his head, peering at him through half lidded eyes.

"What are you doing up?" He asked sluggishly, letting his head flop back on the sofa's cushion. His blond hair was equally tousled as his, especially without his hair pin.

"Couldn't sleep." Emil muttered, returning his attention back to the program. "Why are you here?"

"Same here." He glanced at the show and groaned. "This show's stupid. Change it."

"It's not that stupid. You don't have a sense of humor like normal people." Emil commented back, clutching the remote possessively.

He didn't have to see to know that Lukas rolled his eyes at him. During commercial break, Lukas spoke again, "Why can't you go to sleep?"

Emil shrugged. "A weird dream."

"You want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "I rather not. I can barely remember it anyways." he fibbed and ran through his disheveled hair. "What about you?"

"I couldn't get tired. Came here for it to help. Obviously it worked." Lukas let out a huge yawn.

"That's why I'm here too." Emil fought back the contagious yawn and failed with an even louder one. He felt an itch on his arm and he scratched it, digging his nail through the fabric of his sleeves and hopefully through the layer of the gauze to stop the irritation in one of his cuts. It didn't, sending him more irritated.

"You keep scratching that arm," Lukas noticed. "how come?"

"A bug bite. It should be healed soon." Emil replied. He waited impatiently for the show to come back again for him to shut up.

"Hmm," Lukas closed his eyes, burying his head deeper in the pillow. "bugs shouldn't be biting at this time of year."

"Ants bite every year." Emil countered back.

"How did you get an ant bite on your arm?"

Emil thought quick. "I was laying down at school in the fields and a ant crawled up my arm and bit me." he was sick of lying, sick of being so false to his own brother. How could anyone trust a person like him? When the program returned, so did the anxiety inside. He felt like he needed to get and run. Go outside and run blindly to nowhere. If it could release the tension building up in his muscles, constricting him until he was practically begging for it to stop, he would run forever. Maybe he would run so fast, he could run across the Atlantic ocean, back to his small home in the colorful capital of Reykjavik. Here, he didn't have the frosty mountains, the open sea, the sight of snow falling listlessly. It was too warm to ever have a snowfall, and their version of a cold day was his version of a nice day back home.

Why did they have to move in this part of America out of all places? Why not Minnesota? They were teeming with Scandinavians, it'll be a lot like home, he guessed. Here, it was so diverse, not that he minded really, but it felt hard to fit in when most of the population knew English, handful of Spanish, and had trouble reading the capital of Iceland. Sure, there were some people who surprised him by speaking a sentence or two in Icelandic to impress him. There were people who were fully aware of the island and its geography and culture. Then there were some who kept mixing up Iceland and Greenland and even asked if they had TV's and running water up there.

"You know what sounds good right now?" Lukas asked out of the blue.

"What?" Emil wondered, knowing Lukas it could be anything.

"A _smultring._" he said with a bit of hunger in his tone. "One hot and fresh. Remember those Emil? You use to eat them a lot when you were a toddler."

"I remember." how could he not? They were a perfect treat during Christmas time, he could remember waiting in line at a stall bustling with hungry customers, bundled in a thick jacket and a new scarf he received from his grandparents every year. Mom was always picky with fatty treats but always indulged herself with the boys when it came to a _smultring_. In America, they were called doughnuts and didn't taste as great as the ones in Norway. The Icelandic version was good, but not as great and filled with nostalgia. He bet there were some frying now in Minnesota.

"I can't remember the last time I had one. Do you think Krispy Kreme is open at this time?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Probably. You're not thinking of going out there now, are you?"

"No, too tired." his voice was drifting, deeper and deeper into sleep. "Maybe before school. You want some?"

"Well, you do drive us to school. Guess I have to."

"Good," Lukas murmured. "You need to eat more. You're too skinny."

"I'm average weight." Emil snorted. Sure, he was thinner than Lukas, but he wasn't anorexic. Some of the girls he passed in the school hallways were like poles. How they were strong enough to support their bodies and walk up and down stairs he might never know. Those are the people who needed more help than him.

Help.

He suddenly thought of Leon. Yesterday was such a blur, he could barely recall it without it being all melded together in a puzzling mess. It was giving him a headache if he concentrated separating them apart. But he did recall one important detail: to meet Leon at the media center during lunch hours. They shared the same lunch period it turned out and the media center was spacious and a small corner near the biography section was always left empty. Leon would be waiting for him there to start the help procedure.

Whatever that would be about this time.

Lukas sat up, shoulders slacking as he then stood up. "I'm going back to bed. Don't stay up too late." He mumbled and dragged himself back to the hallway like a lethargic zombie.

Emil said nothing as he flopped himself down in Lukas' spot. It smelled like him. Fresh and warm. It was once a smell he particularly enjoyed as a child when he found sanctuary in his brother's arm, his face deep in his brother's chest. His mother always had her arms out for him, but at the growing age of four, he thought Lukas was the coolest, smartest guy he knew.

How that changed over the years.

He didn't know how long he laid there before sleep finally overtook him. He did know that when it finally happened, he was shivering cold.

* * *

><p>Morning came far too quickly for him and Lukas kept his words about his cravings. He ordered Emil out of the sofa and to get ready early. Emil protested but stopped when it dawned on him that this was Lukas he was arguing to. He wouldn't think twice if he made up his decision of making him walk to school.<p>

Emil slipped back to a dreamless sleep once settled in the passenger seat. He awoke with the second jolt of the morning when a cardboard brown bag plopped in his lap. They weren't from Krispy Kreme's.

"Change of plans," Lukas said, climbing back to his seat behind the steering wheel. They were parked aside a gas pump in a strongly lit gas station. "The car needed gas. They carried doughnuts inside."

"Great," Emil yawned, waking himself up. "Cheap doughnuts. Who knows how long they've been in there."

Lukas snorted. "Says the guy who ate fermented shark meat."

"Shut up."

They left the gas station, Lukas staring straight ahead. For some reason, he looked drearier than usual. He didn't reach for his breakfast, never once looked at them as if he had completely forgotten their existence.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Emil questioned as they made a U-turn to get on the right street to school.

"Not hungry." he replied nonchalantly.

Emil quirked his eyebrows. "Then why did you get them?"

"Thought I was," Lukas said and made a turn to pull in the school's parking lot. "Guess not."

Emil shrugged, accustomed to his weird brother and reached in for a doughnut. He tore off a big chunk and chewed. Just as expected: tasted like crap.

* * *

><p>The media center, as expected was scarce of students. Only a few were lingering at the fictional books, gossiping. It always reeked of mildew with the blue carpet underneath stained with unknown substance. It made Emil loose his trust of checking out books here. He made his way towards the back, head hung low. Once he reached there, he spotted a familiar face reached for a book at the top shelf.<p>

It wasn't Leon but Tino, a transfer student straight from the country side of Finland. Like him, Tino felt like a fish out of water in plenty of situations. He was a cute blond haired blue-eyed boy who was slightly shorter than him with the most genuine of smiles he had ever seen. He thick accent that made him sound like he would break out singing any moment made him a target to bullies. But he showed startling strength to keep them at bay.

Berwald, another of Lukas' weird friends, was particularly fond of the cutie.

Tino, determined, bounced up from the tip of his toes and snatched the book he wanted, sighing with triumph. He turned around to possibly check it out when he noticed Emil and flashed a cheery smile.

"Moi! I didn't see you see there. What's up?"

Under the light, Emil could pick up little flecks of freckles on his seemingly pure skin, adding to his cuteness. "I'm just waiting for someone." he said, looking at the shelves beside him containing books older than him.

"A friend?" Tino wondered.

"Sort of."

_He said he'll meet me here. Where the hell is he?_

"Yeah. Oh, that reminds me. I need to meet up with Eduard. We're planning of having a girlfriend carrying race one day at school." he said with eagerness.

"A girlfriend carrying race?" he echoed, hoping he heard wrong.

"Yep!" Tino chirped. "Back in Finland, there is a wife carrying race. Obviously, I doubt anyone's married here. So a girlfriend carrying race instead! Cool idea, right?"

"Err…" _Please tell me they don't have that in America._

"Eduard's girlfriend agreed to participate. I wish I get someone before the day of the race." he said wistfully. "Do you have a girlfriend Emil?"

"No." he was mildly surprised at his wish. He was sure, no absolutely positive, that Tino was gay. He had that certain demeanor about him. Guess that's what he got for assuming. Berwald would be absolutely disappointed at this.

Tino dropped his smile to a fake pout. "One less contestant. This will be harder than I thought. Oh well moi moi!" he strolled to check out his book, leaving Emil alone.

He slid his bag from his shoulder to the carpet and he sat on the beanbag chairs the media center provided. He fell in deep, feeling like his seat was devouring him. He shifted to a better position, wishing he wasn't so skinny after all. He checked the time on his phone. Where was he?

"Psst."

Emil jumped. A boy wearing a beanie cap that concealed his hair and black tinted sunglass was gazing down at him with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He was about to ask "can I help you?" when he saw a panda bear key chain dangling from his bag. He remembered seeing that before.

"Leon?"

"Yeah." he blew out a lime green bubble from his gum, popped it, and smacked it back in his lips. He always hated when people chewed gum with their mouths open for everyone to hear each wet smack from their working teeth. "I was kind of, like, expecting you not to be here."

"And I was kind of expecting for you to not show up either. We're even."

"On what?" he asked as he pulled up a beanbag chair, landing himself on it with his bag positioned at his lap.

"Trust."

Leon clicked his tongue. "Looks like we need to work on that if we want this to work, eh?"

Emil agreed, eyeing Leon with slight curiosity. "Why are you wearing that?"

"I'm in disguise." Leon answered, removing his sunglasses and his hat. He ran through his hair swiftly.

"Why? Are you on America's Most Wanted list?"

"Totally. I killed a man last week and I'm hiding myself in the school's media center. You, like, won't say anything, will you?"

"My lips are sealed." Emil gestured zipping his lips closed.

Leon slouched in his seat, popping his gum loudly. "I'm not really supposed to be in here. I originally planned to eat with a certain somebody today. But of course that changed."

"So you wore a disguise to be here?"

He shrugged. "He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer."

"I guess not." he said. Despite being dangerous, he couldn't help but find him a bit amusing. "So, tell me why you wanted me to be here while I could be eating lunch right about now."

"You actually eat school lunch? Gross." Leon commented, zipping open his backpack and rummaged through it. "I just want to talk more about your problem is all. You were in a bad state so I didn't feel, like, pushing it." he pulled out a ballpoint pen, uncapped it and reached for his left hand.

Emil flinched when the tip of his pen ran over his palm. The light strokes of his pen tickled him and he began to fidget.

"Stop squirming," Leon chided. "You'll get it smudged."

"What are you writing down?"

"My number." he said as he finished, giving his hand back. "I'm expecting you to at least text me."

"Really?"

"Working on our trust like we should." Leon said, capping his pen and returning it back to his bag. "You will text me."

"Yeah, yeah," Emil read his phone number idly. What would Lukas say to this? It kind of looked like a potential lover's number.

"Okay, first question. When did this all get started?" Leon produced a tiny composition book seemingly out of nowhere along with a mechanical pencil. It slightly irked him, reminding of a therapist he dreaded of visiting.

"So we're here to just ask questions?" Emil questioned.

"I'm the one asking," he then pointed his mechanical pencil at him. "You're the one answering them. I want to know what I'm dealing with. You know that, let's start from the beginning. So, when did it start?"

Emil thought for awhile of his answer. "I don't know. Two years ago maybe. It seems longer than that though. Are you asking about my depression or my cutting?"

"Um," Leon tapped the pencil on his knee. "start with the depression. Are you, like, sure you're depressed?"

"If depression isn't feeling hopeless, empty, and sad all the time, I don't know what it is then. It started far longer than cutting."

Leon waited for him to continue. Emil sighed and continued, "I guess I can tell you I had a rough life since when I was a baby. I was a broken condom baby. An accident."

"So? A lot of us were accidents."

"I know that, but my father didn't want another child." he explained lowly, scouring the area for anyone. "Especially not a weakling like me."

"Man, you, like, put yourself down a lot."

"I'm telling you the truth," Emil glared. "I was born weak and sickly. I have a weak immune system. Still do."

"That gotta suck."

"I'm use to it. Sometimes it was cool, I guess. I got to ride in a wheelchair plenty of times and order Lukas around. The nurses at the hospital would baby me and sneak in cookies for me. And people around me would give me sympathy all the time, giving me free stuff here and there. It got annoying eventually."

"You look pretty fine to me." Leon said, scribbling something down fast.

"That's because I'm not sick right now." Emil replied. "Haven't been in awhile."

"You're not depressed because of that, are you?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm too use to it. It's just something I have to deal with for the rest of my life. But I guess it kind of makes me sad to think that anything I catch may lead me to the hospital. Father hated that."

"Why?"

"Lukas was never in to sports and he refused to play any kind. My father loved sports. He was that kind of father. So did I, but I can't play sports. After being sick all the time, it left my body permanently weak." Emil's eyes dropped. "I always wanted to play ice hockey. My father encouraged me practice and signed me up on a little team back at my old school. Of course that didn't last long. They kicked me out eventually when I could barely keep myself going for an half an hour. Father looked so pissed. At me."

He watched Leon chew the tip of his eraser. Emil didn't really want to continue talking about this. The cuts were beginning to itch with want. He reached in his pocket, toying with his neglected razor blade.

Leon eyed him knowingly and held out his hand. "Hand it here." he ordered.

Emil scoffed, yanked it out and slapped it in his hands. "I wasn't going to cut myself in front of you."

"You shouldn't be cutting yourself period." he scolded, examining it. It was a clean blade. Never used. "So, it seems like something triggered it."

"Triggered it?"

"Yeah, what you said triggered something." Leon pocketed his razor and returned to his composition book and pencil. "Was it about hockey?"

"No." Emil answered coolly.

"Your illness?"

"I already answered that. And the answer's still no." Emil said.

"Just making sure." Leon rolled his eyes. "Is this about your brother?"

"Despite how annoying he is, no."

"Okay," he paused, then said with a voice very sure of himself, as if he was saving it for last the whole time, "is it about your father?"

Emil stiffened, breathing out slowly. He was expecting this and knew it was about to come up. Still he felt like he wasn't prepared for it. He stared at the stained carpet wordlessly.

Leon pulled out a wrapper and spat his gum back in it. "I take that as a yes then." he tossed the wad in the nearest bin, cursed when he missed.

The wounds began to burn. Leon did indeed have his razor, but he had a spare in his wallet where his change was packed in.

"Lukas says you two live with your mother. Where's your father if you don't mind me asking."

Emil raised his eyes to make contact with Leon's. No, to glower at him and Leon gave a challenging stare, not at all threatened. It was the only thing that he could think of doing at the moment. His words were lodged up in his throat. He wanted to spew out the details, every last detail, but he felt the sharp pain lodging itself deep in his body.

Instead, he swallowed and answered, "He's dead."

Leon's stare softened. "I'm sorry to hear about that."

"Don't be," Emil found himself snapping.

Leon looked alarmed for a split second then calmed. "When did he die?"

"Two years ago." Emil felt his throat getting tighter. He was feeling cramped. He needed fresh air. He needed to breathe. He had presumed agreeing with Leon about helping him out would include talking about his past, but hell, he wasn't ready. Not yet. Memories began pouring in and his nerves sent out his anxiety. He hated that feeling and he was starting to hate Leon questioning. He was asking more questions than necessary.

Leon placed his stuff aside, reaching out for Emil. He smacked it away instantly, hearing it echo down the rows of bookshelves.

"Let's change the subject." Emil grumbled, hoping he would. He failed to catch himself from the act. It happened almost instinctively he felt a little ashamed.

Leon sighed, seemingly reluctant but complied. "We were going somewhere with that but I guess you're not ready for that yet. At least I got the gist of it."

Emil agreed. "I'll tell you when I'm ready."

"Or when you trust me?"

"That too." Emil slumped back in his seat, coaxing himself to be comfortable. Leon would change it and his stress would eventually stop, he told himself.

Leon thought to himself. "We really, like, need to work on it." something clicked in his head. "That's it. Here. Stand up." he said and stood up himself.

"What are you doing?" he said as Leon clasped his hand around his and pulled him up to his feet.

"We're going to start trusting each other." Leon announced, taking his shoulder and turned him around. "You seem to have a hard time trusting people. I'll take care of that. It'll be our first step before we continue with anything else. Make you feel comfortable being with me."

"I don't have a problem with trust," Emil harrumphed like a kid. "you're just the dangerous type."

"Oh really? Do you at least trust me catching you?" Leon took several steps back with his arms open.

"Definitely not!"

"Just do it. Cross your arms and fall back. I promise I'll catch you."

Emil inhaled and exhaled deeply. Maybe he should just play around with him. Leon was stubborn, he reminded himself, he might as well go with it. He did as he was told, arms across his chest and he fell back. The feeling of falling startled him anyways and he caught himself before he could hit the ground. Leon's hands already caught his shoulders and he tsked disapprovingly.

"Believe me on this. Try again." Leon guided him back up straight and Emil felt frustrated. This time with himself.

"Do it, do it, do it," he muttered to himself, crossing his arms.

If Leon was going to help him, he needed to be more open. He had pointed it out himself. Trust was the key. So far, Leon hadn't told Lukas or his mother. Or anyone for that matter. No one looked at him as a freak. No one called him names like "emo". Nothing else happened. Expect for Lukas doubling his questions in regards to math homework. His life continued the way it was, with the promise of an idiot of making his life better. He swallowed again and let himself fall, feeling the rush breezing past him.

And just as he was expecting to hit the ground, arms found his body just in time, halting his fall. His head slacked, eyes looking up. He just resisted his natural instincts to stopping himself, feeling the fear of expected pain from the back until it stopped, just like that. Leon smirked from above. "Told you. I'm here to help you, not hurt you. One more time."

He helped him back up. "Sorry for asking you those questions earlier." Leon apologized in a quiet voice with his arms out and ready. "This is my first time dealing with a cutter you know. I keep, like, forgetting it's different in each case I deal with."

"It's fine," Emil said. "like I said, I'll talk about it another time. I guess I'll apologize next. Sorry for smacking you."

"I was ready for it." Leon shrugged it off simply. "Let's just focus on helping you now rather than the past."

Emil gave a short but innocent laugh. "I prefer that."

With that, he let his body fall again, this time, awaiting Leon for him to catch him before the pain came.

And he did just in time.


End file.
